


Czernina

by sirsparklepants



Series: shoulder, fat, bone [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Courtship, Dealing With The Djinn Thing, Dom/sub, Erotic Electrostimulation, Missing Scene, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, Probably Incorrect Food Traditions, Reconciliation, Scent Kink, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fisting, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsparklepants/pseuds/sirsparklepants
Summary: "... how quickly they relieved / him of his urge to roost; quickly they served / the black soup, signifying refusal." -Pan Tadeusz, Adam Mickiewicz, trans. Leonard KressJaskier and Geralt have an unexpected encounter with Yennefer. It ends better than anyone predicted. (The missing scene fromsweet to tongue, sound to eye.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: shoulder, fat, bone [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685464
Comments: 38
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was doing research on Polish offal dishes a few months ago, as one does, and I was hoping for a blood sausage one I could write about. Unfortunately, from the first hand accounts I've read, Polish blood sausage is very much not well liked. So I turned to other blood foods. This soup, czernina, appears in the oldest published Polish cookbook and it has an interesting tradition attached - it symbolizes rejection of a suit to a potential groom. Which, of course, made it perfect to write fic about. I was originally going to include it in _sweet to tongue_ , but it's pretty different, tonally, and it needs some space to flourish, so it's its own fic!
> 
> I apologize if I've completely murdered any Polish food traditions. It's basically impossible to get ahold of a copy of Compendium Feculorum in English for any reasonable price and the nearest library that has it is something like three hundred miles away, so I'm relying on a couple of recipe blogs that translated the recipes for me and told me about the cultural context.
> 
> As is apparently traditional for me now, all the smut is in the second half, which will be up... within a couple of weeks, probably. Thanks to all my friends for their encouragement, and PR and Loq in specific for providing me with game info when I complained about the setting and giving me info about Jaskier's table manners (and judgment of other people's) from the books, respectively.

It had been a long, exhausting day at the end of a long, exhausting week in a month that was equally exhausting even if less long, and Geralt was tired down to the bone. First had been the series of contracts in Temeria, where they needed witchers but respected them even less than the rest of the continent, and Geralt's pockets grew threadbare. Then there was the apology to Jaskier, who had been hiding out in the capital to avoid Geralt after his fit, and the reason the witcher had bothered coming into the country at all when he knew what it was like. Then, after Geralt had spent the last of his money on enough supplies to last them to the border, a sudden early storm had sprung up when they were making camp, blowing away or ruining most of their dry goods and, perhaps more importantly, the herbs he kept for medicines and potions. They could supplement their food with hunting and foraging until they reached the next settlement, where they could barter their skills - it would be lean, but it wasn't late enough in the year that they would starve - but now, unless they lucked into a natural bounty somewhere, there would be nothing to be done if they were attacked. It put Geralt on edge, and if he was a praying man, he would have prayed to see another person right around now. 

There were still clouds scuddering through the sky as they trudged through the mud, although the rain was more a mist than anything else, obscuring the vision and dampening Geralt's sense of smell. It was getting on towards evening and still too wet to camp, although he was well aware that Jaskier couldn't keep going as long as he could, especially on limited rations and soaked through under his cloak. That was why he looked at the looming stone tower that appeared in the distance with such suspicion. Geralt should have noticed some sign of it before now. It was four stories high and had no outer wall, no supporting keep or battlements or even a surrounding town. It reeked of trouble. But then again, so did one more night in wet open fields for his human friend, and that he was less equipped to combat than the kind of trouble that came with a lone tower in the middle of nowhere. Magic had made it, of course, and Geralt could usually bargain with magic workers somehow. 

Jaskier had perked up visibly at the sight of the tower. Likely he hadn't made the same deductions Geralt had, as he was rather distrusting of sorcerers and sorceresses, as a rule. He'd had some sort of exception with Yennefer before Geralt had fucked things up, but magic never would be his favorite thing. Geralt kept his mouth shut about his conclusions. Jaskier would figure it out or he wouldn't. No sense draining away his second wind until then. He'd need it to make it to the tower. 

Their journey seemed to take both hours and only minutes somehow. Geralt didn't know whether to blame it on the stress and exhaustion of the last few days or the magic that set his medallion to buzzing. Jaskier seemed to sense it too, because the faint humming and tapping that had accompanied them both at last fell silent as they drew up to the tower door. Geralt knocked on the heavy wood, hard enough to be heard at the top of the tower, and hoped whoever lived here didn't decide that was excessively rude. 

A hope in vain, because when the door opened after a double handful of slow heartbeats, Yennefer was behind it, and the scorching glare she gave him was almost enough to send him out into the damp. But Jaskier shivered beside him, so Geralt stood his ground. 

"Yenn -" he tried, softening his voice the way he only did when they were alone, but her glare only increased in ferocity. 

" _Yennefer_ ," she hissed at him. "You've lost the privilege of pet names." Her knuckles were white around the doorframe. Geralt was a bit surprised she hadn't literally thrown him on his ass yet. 

"Yennefer," he corrected himself. "We need shelter for the night. I'll pay what price you ask." Deferential, not intimate, he hoped, despite the ache in his chest at the fury in those violet eyes. 

Yennefer looked at him, and then over at Jaskier. The bard was looking back at her, utterly neutral. They'd shared a night together, the three of them, some weeks ago, but Jaskier had told Geralt explicitly that he wasn't going to get involved in the quarrel between the witcher and the sorceress. 'Bad for my health,' he had said. So he wouldn't try to influence Yenn's - _Yennefer's_ \- decision. But the sorceress did have some affection for him, and Geralt suspected that was the only reason she relented. 

"Fine," she said. "Stable your horse over there." She pointed out a building that hadn't been there when they approached the tower. Then she crossed her arms and tossed her head, something spiteful in her eyes. "You're quite lucky I had dinner on the fire. It will be ready by the time you're both presentable." 

The room she showed them to was small and cramped, barely enough room for a bed with a straw mattress and one quilt, an ewer of water and basin on a stand, and a brazier. All their things would have to go under the bed and one of them would have to sit on it while the other washed and changed, but it was out of the damp and the water was steaming, with dried rosemary scenting it lightly. That part, Geralt was sure, was more about Yennefer's nose than their comfort, but he knew Jaskier would appreciate it. He sat on the bed and indicated that the bard should wash up first, and sure enough, Jaskier made happy noises upon seeing the herbs. He dug a clean, dry outfit out of his bags and rigged a line for his damp clothes to hang from the walls somehow in front of the brazier before he started washing. 

"What do you think she's going to ask for tonight, do you think?" he asked, pressing the hot rag over his face. 

Geralt grunted. He didn't know. "Not money," he said. 

Jaskier looked over at him, annoyed. "I know _that_ ," he said. "I'm asking if you think it's more along the lines of a favor or a pound of flesh. Perhaps literally. She's very unhappy with you." He wriggled into clean undergarments and sighed at the state of his spare hose. 

"Don't know," Geralt said. "Maybe both, if I ask for the herbs I need." Yennefer had enough to waste some on bathwater for guests she was annoyed with, so chances were good Geralt could at least get enough for an emergency from her. If she was willing to give them.

Jaskier slanted a look over to him as he slung on his doublet - unbuttoned, but Geralt supposed he wasn't eating dinner with anyone who hadn't seen him naked - and attempted to fix his hair in the small circle of polished bronze he kept with his combs and soaps. "Will you at least try to apologize tonight?" he asked. "I truly don't fancy becoming the victim to one of your lovers' quarrels again." 

Geralt grunted again. He wanted to explain himself to her, but he was bad with words unless he was angry, and that wouldn't serve his purpose. Yenn - _Yennefer_ \- was good at cutting him down and making him angry when she wished to be, so if he could speak tonight, it would only be because she wished it. And she didn't seem to be in a listening mood. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. "Great. Wonderful. I'm not sitting between you two. You can be in the middle, so when things start getting ugly, I can run back here." He slid past Geralt and sat on the bed, bumping his shoulder companionably despite his words. "Get cleaned up. And do try to be civil for at least fifteen minutes, will you? We haven't had a hot meal in days and I'd rather not bolt it down if I can help it."

When they were both ready, Geralt followed his nose to the kitchen, at the back half of the bottom floor. There were two pots over the large hearth, one smelling of vinegar, root vegetable, fruit, and poultry, and one bubbling with water as Yennefer stirred it. Geralt could just see the kluski kladzione bubbling to the surface - almost ready then. There were three places laid at the rough-hewn table, and Geralt took the one just below the head. 

Yenn - Yennefer - had her hair up as she stared at her pots with the same concentration she'd give her brews, and Geralt's chest tightened at the fierce expression. Her gown was black and gauzy, but she hadn't bothered to brush off the smudge of flour on her sleeve or the crumb of dough on the back of one hand. He'd never seen her cook without magic. Or do any sort of domestic chore. Like this, it was almost like the quiet nights at camp between him and Jaskier. The closest someone like him got to peace. 

The spell was broken as soon as she spooned the kluski into a bowl and caught sight of them both. Her face slammed shut like a jailhouse door and went high and imperious, hiding the hurt Geralt knew was there. Then she smiled again, with that twist of spite he didn't trust. 

"Take these," she said, shoving the serving bowl at him. "It's finished now." With a gesture, she summoned all three soup bowls, ladling a generous portion into them. She kept her body between Geralt and the cauldron, but he didn't know why. Yennefer knew he'd eat almost anything. She gestured again, and the soup followed her to the table, settling itself in front of all three of them as soon as she settled at the head. 

Geralt sucked in a breath, unable to control himself. Of all the things he'd ever thought that would hurt him in his life - and there were many, in the life of a witcher - he hadn't thought this would be one of them. Something as simple as a meal, hot and warm to chase the cold from his bones, and it had turned into this. The black soup. Rejection, plain as day. No wonder Yennefer had been so eager to feed him. 

He breathed again, tried to moderate his expression. Glanced at his spoon. He should eat, but his stomach churned at the thought. It smelled good and it steamed, redolent with flavor, but Geralt didn't know if he could make himself eat it for what it represented. But it was fuel. He needed it. Within him, the witcher and the man battled.

He was pulled from his internal struggle by a slurp from beside him. Jaskier, who had the worst table manners of any noble Geralt had encountered, had bypassed the spoon entirely and was sipping broth straight from his bowl with every evidence of enjoyment. Geralt stared at him, baffled. Jaskier surely knew what the soup meant, more deeply and well than Geralt did.

Jaskier refused to meet his gaze. Instead, he said quite brightly, "I haven't had czernina in quite some time. It's very good. I missed it."

From the head of the table, Yennefer snorted, moved to such an inelegant sound by her disbelief. "You missed it?" she drawled.

"My dear Yennefer, we both know I'm not the marrying type," Jaskier said, gesturing at himself with a spoon. "I knew that quite young, but my parents were ever-hopeful. Czernina meant I'd ruined their plans once again and was free to live my life without tying some poor girl to me."

Despite himself, Geralt snorted as well, and looked back at his own bowl. Jaskier's confession had taken some of the weight from the soup in front of him, and tentatively, he lifted a laden spoon to his mouth.

It was good, actually, the blood and the vinegar well-balanced, a rich earthiness from the vegetables and meat, and he made eye contact with Yennefer as he swallowed. He'd wronged her. She deserved to see him accepting that, giving her his penance, whatever she decided he owed.

"You're... a good cook," he said, and put another spoonful of soup into his mouth, to buy time. "And I'm sorry for what I did."

Far from soothing Yennefer's ire, this seemed to incense her. She banged her spoon down on the table with force, making all the dishes jump and the soup slosh. Jaskier yelped as he narrowly avoided spatter on his clothes.

"You're _sorry_?" she hissed. "After tying me to you, manipulating me, _lying_ to me for years? You think that will _fix_ things? Or are you simply sorry you were caught and are relying on the djinn to worm your way back into my good graces?"

Geralt dropped his gaze, sickened. "No, I don't expect anything from you," he said, clenching his fists under the table. "But an apology is what you're owed. And an explanation, if you want it."

"You're damn right I want it," Yennefer said, violet eyes alight. "Tell me, Geralt of Rivia. Why did you steal my will with a djinn's curse? Why did you let me think you loved me true? Why didn't you tell me what binds us?"

Geralt swallowed. He wasn't - Yennefer and Jaskier were better with words than he was. He did better with gestures, and before the mountain, he had thought the djinn one of the greatest gestures he could make. Almost as great as promising any price to an unknown sorcerer. But words were what he had now, so he opened his mouth, clenching his hand against his thigh.

"When I went into that manor," he began, speaking slowly to allow himself to put words to things he had only felt, "I thought… what a shame it would be to have a fire like yours extinguished from the world. I wasn't thinking much. You didn't have much time. I didn't want the djinn to twist things. So I wished for our fates to be bound. I know my word means little to you now, but you can see the truth in my mind; I didn't wish to own your heart or your body, Yennefer. The wish drew us together, but it didn't create my love. That came as we came together and I knew you. I know it's true because I love you as I love Jaskier, like no one else. You see me, both of you, and you don't see a monster."

Yennefer snarled, standing up from the table and stalking over to him in two great strides. She placed her hands on his temples. "It must be nice, to be so in control, to know this," she spat at him. "I'll look, because you're right, your word is worth pig shit now. Whatever you wished, you lied to me, Geralt." She closed her eyes, and Geralt closed his, sliding into a light meditation to open his mind.

Yennefer wasn't gentle, rummaging through. She pulled through his memories of their relationship, his relationship with Jaskier, like a noble girl choosing outfits to meet her suitor in. She picked one up, looked at it from all angles, and tossed it away, already yanking another scene to the fore. It was dizzying and painful, but Geralt kept breathing deeply, letting her look, not fighting. Yennefer didn't deserve to doubt herself the way he'd made her.

At last she pulled away, but not without one last scattering through the memories, giving Geralt a lurch like he'd just fallen off the edge of a cliff. "That's all well and good for you," she said, sitting back down, "but I was not concerned for you, mostly. I don't know if my feelings were natural or grown by the djinn, and I don't have a convenient second lover to compare to. I don't like not knowing these things." Her face was calmer, less furious now that she'd vented some of it, but still pinched and tight.

Geralt stayed silent. He had no solution for her. But from next to him, Jaskier, who'd eaten not only his own portion of soup and dumplings but half of Geralt's as well, piped up.

"Well, you do know the course of your own relationship with Geralt," he said, setting down the bowl. "There's no one you feel quite like him for, but a lovely lady such as yourself must have someone else you feel at least some small affection for. Something that could be nurtured into a love, if you so choose. Spend some time with them, let it bloom - perhaps not into fullness, but into enough of a blossom to compare. Then you'll know."

Geralt looked at Jaskier, and felt Yennefer doing the same. It… seemed a sound solution to him. He turned to Yennefer, who was staring at the bard speculatively. 

"You know," she said, toying with her spoon, "there is someone, in fact, who I have a fondness for And I think he shall do just fine. In fact, I've come up with an ingenious solution."

"Oh?" Jaskier asked politely, eyes sparkling. "I do so love hearing your plots. Even when they're batshit crazy they're rather entertaining."

Yennefer threw back her head and laughed, most of the tension draining out of her. "I think you'll like this one," she said. "Why don't you two come upstairs with me, and Jaskier, you do your very best to make me fall in love with you for a night?"

Jaskier's eyebrows shot up, but nothing showed in his tone, to his credit. "My dear Yennefer, I'm always happy to please a beautiful woman. But how does this serve you? You could get sex from anyone on the continent you so desired."

Yennefer smiled, slow and sultry. "Indeed I could," she said. "But I've become fond of you. More importantly, Geralt has kept vital information back. From both of us, over the years," she said, frowning at him. "So it's only fair he's kept back from our pleasure, don't you think?"

Geralt swallowed, shifting in place. He loved to touch his partners, to please them. It would be the sweetest torture to watch them in the throes of ecstasy without being able to help it along. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn't want to talk himself out of being allowed in Yennefer's bedroom again.

"Now that," Jaskier said, pupils growing larger as he matched Yennefer's smile, "sounds like a brilliant idea."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sex scene is getting REALLY out of hand, y'know, as they do, so I split it up. The next and hopefully last part will be out in a week or two! Thanks to Kaida for looking it over for me.

Yennefer's bedroom was, of course, at the top of the tower, taking up most of the floor, and Geralt felt his cock thickening just listening to Yennefer whisper to Jaskier what she would do with him, her arm linked through his like a courtly lady with her escort. The scent of both of their arousal perfumed the air, sharp and heavy, and Geralt tried to be discreet about opening his mouth a little, letting it roll across his tongue. From the smirk Yennefer turned to throw at him, she at least had noticed. 

By the time they reached the top, Geralt was breathing a little deeper, and not from the stairs. He liked fucking - seeing his partners flush, smelling them satisfied, touching their skin, feeling the sweat and the sticky results of orgasm on his hands, face, cock. Jaskier and Yennefer more than most. The two of them together always undid him. And now he would see them, hear them, smell them, but not touch. Not feel the gratifying shivers as his lovers peaked at his touch. Yennefer knew how to punish him. He could only breathe them in and let his cock grow uselessly hard.

The door at the top of the stairs pushed open at Yennefer's touch. Nothing so mundane as a knob or a latch for her. The insides of the room matched the outsides, surprisingly, with gray stone walls, round as the tower itself, draped with exquisitely detailed tapestries and finely embroidered silk wall hangings. Directly opposite the door was a large bed, carved ebony polished to a fine sheen and wrought with many tiny carvings. It was draped in black velvet with hangings the same. Geralt could smell the freshness of the goose feather stuffing in bed and pillows from here. In front of the bed, there was a large trunk, and to its right a fireplace roared, a bookcase just far enough from it to be out of danger. An armchair with a footstool, plush and luxuriously upholstered in leather, stood in front of both. On the other side of the bed, there was a deep copper tub and a changing screen folded next to it, and a dressing-table and stool with a large mirror, scattered with Yennefer's many skin potions, lotions, and cosmetics. Lilac and gooseberry lingered in the wall hangings, in the plush furs and rugs scattered on the smooth wooden floor, and most of all, on the bed. Geralt stood in the doorway, watching, as Yennefer and Jaskier progressed towards that bed, something in him hungry.

Yennefer pushed Jaskier down so he was sitting on the bed, then pulled him into a kiss. It wasn't a testing, coaxing kiss like Geralt knew Jaskier preferred to start his amorous encounters with. It was a fierce kiss. Passionate, dominating, powerful. Jaskier leaned into it like a flower into the sun. His hands flew up to Yennefer, fluttering at her waist, her shoulders, her face, soft and yielding. He bent his head into her hands, supplicating. Geralt could hear the sounds of their mouths moving together, smacking and wet; he could hear Yennefer's little inhale through her nose as Jaskier moved his jaw and the soft moan caught half-voiced in Jaskier's throat. It was a long kiss, and the distinct scent of arousal was rolling stronger off of both of them by the time Yennefer pulled back. Jaskier was panting, flushed, his hair ruffled where Yennefer's hands had been. Some of her red lip paint had smudged around his mouth, almost obscene against his lighter skin.

Yennefer gestured, and the chair by the fire rotated to face the bed. Geralt could take a hint, so he sat down in it, hands clenched tight on the arms.

"Here are the rules," Yennefer said, slipping a thumb into Jaskier's mouth. He closed his lips around it and began to suck, and she favored him with a smile before looking back at Geralt. "You can't leave that chair until I say so. You can't touch yourself until I say so. You can't touch either of us until I say so. And you certainly can't come until I give you permission. Do you understand?" she asked.

Geralt's hands seized up hard around the leather. "Yes," he growled. He was already half-hard from that kiss. He would be in pain by the time they were done.

"Good," Yennefer said, eyes flashing with desire. "If you can't take it, then you can leave. Or if you need help, I can help you. We've done that before. But Geralt, if you leave… we'll have to start your punishment over if you return."

Geralt nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. His pulse had picked up remembering exactly the kind of games he used to play with the woman before him.

Yennefer favored him with a glittering, predatory smile that hit him low in the gut and spread through his blood, burning. "Keep your eyes on us," she said, as if he could look anywhere else right now, and turned back to Jaskier.

"Get your clothes off," she said, and Jaskier favored her with a glittering, sultry smile as he undressed, slowly. First came the doublet, already mostly off. Then his boots. Then the chemise, and after that he unlaced his breeches, ghosting his fingers over his cock, hard beneath the fabric. By the time he'd shimmied them off altogether, with far too many circles of his hips for Geralt's sanity, Yennefer had lost her patience. She yanked his smalls and his hose down with one flick of her hand, and Geralt watched Jaskier's prick smack against his stomach with a dry mouth. It was shocking, after the tease, but Jaskier only laughed. 

"What next, darling sorceress?" he asked, one leg turned out to best display his assets. 

"You'll undress me," Yennefer said. "Slowly. And you'll keep your mouth occupied." 

Jaskier's tongue came out to wet his lips. "As the lady commands," he said, and dropped to his knees to push up the hem of her gown. 

There were no laces on this one, as Yennefer favored when she didn't expect company, and under the gown Geralt had seen only the lines of a short, thin shift. So Jaskier got the hem above her knees before his lips had anything but Yennefer's skin to kiss. He bit softly at her lower thigh before skimming the gown over the shift - a loose weave of undyed linen - and progressing upwards. Yenn - Yennefer - put her hand on his head as he reached her hips, petting his hair in approval, and Jaskier turned to slide her fingers into his mouth as he pushed the gown's skirts above her waist. 

Geralt's breath caught and he shifted restlessly. He could see the dark patch of hair between Yennefer's legs through the shift, the outline barely indistinct, and just the sight brought back the sense memory of the smell of her caught in that hair, the taste of her when she was wet between the thighs. His cock strained in its confines. 

Yennefer's gown was at her shoulders now, her small dark nipples hard and straining through her shift. Jaskier noticed them as much as Geralt did, clearly, because he paused the movement of his hands to put his mouth on one, wetting the fabric and then laving it hard with his tongue, Yennefer's fingers forgotten. She gasped and pulled his head hard to her breast. Geralt couldn't see, but he could guess by the enthusiastic motions of Jaskier's head and the flush that broke out across Yennefer's cheeks that Jaskier had listened to at least one of Geralt's drunken speeches on what Yennefer liked in bed. 

"Fuck," Geralt said, just on the edge of human hearing. On particularly indulgent days he'd kept his mouth on Yennefer's breasts for nearly an hour as she sighed and got wetter. If she and Jaskier were going to keep that up for that much longer, Geralt might be the first witcher to die in a monsterless bedroom. He took in a couple of deep meditative breaths. 

It was just a few more torturous minutes before Yennefer gasped and pushed Jaskier's head back. Her shift was wet where his mouth had been, and it was so much easier to see the details of her hard, crinkled nipples now, looking almost raw from the attention. 

"I believe you had a job to do," she told Jaskier, voice husky. "We'll return to that later." 

"I certainly hope so," Jaskier said, but he pushed the gown over Yennefer's head and guided her arms through the sleeves before hanging it carefully over the changing screen. Then he knelt at Yennefer's feet again, beginning the slow process of pushing up her shift again. This time, he followed his hands with biting kisses that Yennefer leaned into, turning her legs toward his mouth. 

At the apex of her thighs, just below the cunt that Geralt could smell was dripping wet from his seat, Jaskier paused. He darted his tongue out to trace a line just below her lips, moaning a little, and Geralt echoed it as he realized Yennefer was wet down her thighs already. He couldn't see Jaskier's cock from here, but he could smell the sex sweat and arousal rolling off of him. It spiked as Yennefer yanked his head away from her by the hair, looking just the slightest bit regretful.

"That's not what I told you to do," she said, gazing down imperiously on Jaskier. 

"Can you blame me, with your lovely quim practically pressed to my face?" he asked, flushed with a sweat on his brow already. 

"I have different plans for you," Yennefer told him. "Get me naked - faster this time - and get back on the bed." 

"Yes, dark and terrible sorceress," Jaskier sassed, but he knew which side his bread was buttered. His hands moved quick and smooth to strip the shift off of Yennefer and lay atop her sheets. 

Naked, Yennefer was as glorious as ever, and Geralt squeezed his thighs together on the trapped bulge of his prick to try and gain some control. She thoroughly ignored him, and he burned with it, but it would have taken a cataclysm to rip his eyes away from the two of them. 

"The whole continent has heard more than enough about your skill with your mouth, bard," Yennefer said. "I find I'm in need of a demonstration that that skill extends to your hands." 

Jaskier laughed breathlessly and raised his hands in front of himself. "They're at your disposal, my darling," he said. 

Yennefer smirked. "Good," she said. "I want you to open yourself up for me. And while you do that, Geralt is going to put my harness on and pick out the cock I'll fuck you with. Won't you, Geralt?" 

Quite without his conscious control, Geralt found himself standing up. Then he froze, dragging his memory of Yennefer's rules into mind, no matter how much he ached to rush over, to place his slick fingers inside Jaskier, to slide the leather harness he knew so well over Yennefer's hips. He stayed like that for two panting breaths before a pair of flashing violet eyes summoned him without a word. 

Geralt well knew the slim wooden box the sorceress pulled from beneath the bed, but his attention was torn. Yennefer had also handed Jaskier a small jar, and from on top of the bed came the slick, familiar sounds of Jaskier fingering himself. Despite himself, Geralt's eyes kept flickering over to his spread legs, the shine of whatever Yennefer had given him on his fingers, the little heaves of his chest as he entered himself. 

Yennefer snapped near Geralt's ear and he jolted, looking at her, shamefaced. 

"I suppose I'll let that go, as I did tell you to watch us," she said, frowning. "But you have another task. Keep your mind on it, or you won't be coming for a week, whether you leave here or not." 

Geralt's breath caught and he looked down at the box in her hands. There were five cocks inside - Yennefer had more, but she didn't keep them all to hand - of various sizes and materials. There was a particularly large one, stone, with a pronounced curve that Geralt enjoyed himself, but he was picking something out for Jaskier. He was considering a wooden toy with interesting bumps and whorls when his eye caught the flashiest one of the bunch, glass with a twisting ridge and runes engraved in and chased in gold. Geralt hovered a finger over the box and, when Yennefer looked permission, touched it. It sparked against his skin, a shocking, pleasant little jolt. Lighting runes.

"This one," he said, voice hoarse and dry. He licked his lips. "Fuck him with this one."

Yennefer smiled at him, predatory. "What an excellent choice," she said. "My harness is under the bed as well, in its usual box. Get it out and get it on me, Geralt." 

Getting closer to the bed meant getting closer to Jaskier, who was watching them both with dark, half-lidded eyes as he slid a third finger into himself. Geralt swallowed and knelt down to retrieve the box. 

"What do you think," Jaskier said, in that bedroom voice he thought was sexy that Geralt unfortunately enjoyed now, "will I need a fourth? I couldn't see her cocks from here." 

"Just three," Geralt said, finding what he was looking for. "But it will be different."

"No hints," Yennefer said as he made to stand up and go back to her. She snapped her fingers again and he froze. "Geralt. You don't need to get up to get over here." 

Jaskier made a very interesting noise from the bed, and Geralt felt a drop of precome well out of his cock, at the order and the noise together. He dropped. It was awkward, crawling with the box in his hand, but he did it. The smells rolling off Yennefer and Jaskier were heady. He'd do almost anything right now if they asked it. 

"Get me ready," Yennefer said, and Geralt had to close his eyes, remembering when that meant he was to put his head between her thighs and not move until she'd come at least twice, relaxed enough to truly enjoy his cock. He took a deep breath - through his mouth, so he didn't smell how Yennefer was wet and Jaskier was wet too - and opened the box, carefully sliding the well-worked leather up Yennefer's legs. 

How good it was to touch her, naked and flushed and glowing with arousal. It was only with the greatest reluctance that he pulled his hands away, when he couldn't possibly adjust the buckles any more. 

"Put my cock on," she said. "I believe it's time the bard got a look at what he's getting." 

The glass prick shocked him again, and when he settled it in place in the harness, Yennefer breathed in sharply. Geralt watched how her breasts heaved with it appreciatively. There was a little rune on the base of the cock as well, and it was positioned to grind against her cunt. 

Yennefer buried her hand in his hair, pulling it until he looked up at her. "You have a choice now," she said. "You can watch from over here, on your knees, or you can watch from the chair. Which do you want?" 

It wasn't a choice that required thinking about. Here, he was so close to the bed he could almost taste their sweat. "Here," Geralt said. 

Yennefer's eyes glittered as she smirked at him. "Good," she said. "And take off your shirt. Give the two of us something nice to look at."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing some parts of this fic was like pulling teeth and others were like "wow I did have other shit planned for today, not just writing." This chapter was pretty much entirely the latter. Note the updated tags and enjoy the porn.

Geralt stripped his shirt as fast as he could. He didn't want to take his eyes off the bed even for a moment. By the time he was kneeling with the garment around his wrists, Yennefer had climbed up onto the bed, and Jaskier was eyeing her cock with a mixture of curiosity and hunger. 

"Hands and knees. Face Geralt, I want him to watch your face and know what he's missing," the sorceress said. Jaskier scrambled to do so, his normally contrarian attitude shed in the face of good sex. This close, Geralt could see the flush of his cock and the wetness that dripped from it, the way the foreskin was pushed back from how hard he was. Geralt's mouth watered, and he kept his eyes on Jaskier's lust-drunk face. 

He knew the exact moment Yennefer pushed into Jaskier. The both of them hitched in little breathless noises almost at once, as Yennefer's cock ground against her from the pressure inside Jaskier. Geralt's prick throbbed as he watched the bard's eyes go hotter and a sweat break out on his chest. And then the first lightning rune slipped in. 

Jaskier yelped and froze for a split second. Then he decided he didn't mind it, and wriggled back to make it rub inside him. Yennefer's eyes glittered, pupils dark, as she fed the rest of the cock into him. By the end, Jaskier was moaning and pushing back.

She took hold of his hips and really fucked him then, not giving him time to adjust, and Jaskier gave as good as he got, gasping and jolting at the sharp prickle of lightning inside him. Geralt well knew the surprising strength in Yennefer's hips and hands when she had you on your hands and knees, and it didn't surprise him to see Jaskier's hands slip under the force. He kept his eyes on Geralt, though, even as his mouth dropped open as Yennefer gave it to him good. Even shirtless, Geralt felt too hot, trapped in his breeches as his prick throbbed. He couldn't decide what to watch - Yennefer's breasts bouncing as she shoved the cock into Jaskier, Jaskier's face, his dripping cock, or what he could see of where the two of them were joined. Geralt shifted as the smell of sex and sweat and lust got stronger - Yennefer was close, he could smell it, he wanted to help her along, tip her over - and as he thought that she threw her head back and ground in, circling her hips, and came, moaning. Jaskier heaved in a deep breath and tried to get his hands back under him. 

Still panting, Yennefer leaned over him, whispering in his ear. "You stay right there," she said, sultry and commanding. "I'm not done yet. And if you come, I'll keep fucking you, do you understand?" 

Jaskier's cock jumped. "Oh, please do," he groaned. "Use me as you see fit." 

Yennefer's hips jumped, just a little; she liked that. She looked up at Geralt - his own sweat, his clenching hands, his painful hard cock - and smiled. "Keep watching," she said. 

This time she fucked Jaskier slowly, building back up to her own release and drawing out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Jaskier's hands clenched the bedcovers, and he started pushing back against Yennefer in her rhythm, grunting out little "uh" noises when she got it just right. And she was a quick study. Soon she was fucking him slow but hard, grinding the lighting runes into Jaskier's prostate, teasing it with the whorls of the glass, and he was not so much grunting as making one long whine. His prick was so sticky Geralt could almost taste it in the air. His own throbbed in sympathy. 

Yennefer sped up, just a little bit, just enough, because Jaskier whined higher, quicker, more urgently, and his cock jumped. Yennefer laughed. 

"Come on, then," she said, chest heaving as their hips slapped together. "Spill." 

Jaskier gasped and groaned as if struck, and between his legs his cock pulsed, hard. Geralt's mouth dropped open, rolling the smell of Jaskier's come over his tongue as the bard moaned again, higher, as Yennefer sped up again. She fucked into him, harder and faster, and somehow Jaskier's cock kept going, more and more, more than he'd ever come with Geralt, and his groaning and whining sounded almost pained through what must have been an uncomfortably pleasurable spark on sensitive nerves. But Yennefer kept her hands on his hips and fucked him harder still, til her movements went ragged and stopped as she came again, hard enough she had to hold onto Jaskier for support. 

For a few moments they stayed like that. Then Yennefer tipped forward, pressing Jaskier into the mattress as they both caught their breath. Jaskier gathered enough fortitude to roll them so they were on their sides, still connected, until Yennefer groaned and pulled her cock out, sitting up with great effort. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments before she walked back over to Geralt. 

"Take my harness off," she told him, taking the glass cock off herself and spelling it clean. Geralt did, and couldn't resist a moan; he was face level with the musky salty sex scent of the sorceress, and his cock throbbed, his drawers almost as sticky as if he'd spent in them already. 

Yennefer smiled at that, and put her hand in his hair, tugging it so he looked up at her. "You were good, Geralt," she said, "but we're not done. If I let you clean me up, will you be patient?" 

Geralt had to try twice to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "Yes," he rasped.

"Good," Yennefer said. Then the hand in his hair tugged him forward, to the soft wet quim in front of him, and Geralt opened his mouth and got to work. 

The taste, the smell of her, wet and dripping from her orgasms but clearly ready for more, drove him half insane. He brushed his tongue along the insides of her thighs, cleaning up the wetness and fragrant sweat that had dripped there, and huffed in air greedily, groaning. The salty tang of her made the swell of his prick almost edge over into true pain, as he ran his tongue over every bit of her he could reach. 

Too soon, it was over, Yenn - Yennefer - pulling him back by the hair. Geralt went, but not without a low grunt of protest. The sorceress tilted his head to look at her again. 

"Are you going to stay where I put you?" Yennefer asked. Geralt nodded, relishing in the sting and pull of her hand in his hair. Yennefer smiled. "Good. Your bard is going to finish taking care of me, and you're going to stay right here. And then, if you're as good as you have been, you'll get to come. Understand?" 

Geralt nodded again, hard. He couldn't look away from her, the power and passion in those violet eyes. She smiled at him and put her foot slowly, deliberately, on the placket of his trousers, and only that grip on his scalp kept him from doubling over in pleasure. 

"Unlace these," she said. "Take your cock out. _Don't_ touch yourself." When Geralt nodded again, she let his hair go, pressing into his hard prick once more for good measure before returning to the bed. 

His fingers felt clumsy on his laces as he watched her climb over Jaskier like a predator. The bard had recovered enough to sit up on the bed, leaned against the headboard, but he was still flushed and panting with a gleam of sweat in his skin, a languid, satisfied expression on his face that Geralt longed to touch. The sudden rush of cool air to his hot, aching cock was a poor substitute. 

"Not finished yet, darling?" Jaskier asked, as Yennefer straddled him. "I'm not blessed with the same advantages as a witcher, I'm afraid, but there's certainly other ways I can satisfy you." 

Yennefer smiled at him, all teeth. "You're not leaving this bed until I'm satisfied, bard," she purred. Beneath her, Jaskier's cock visibly twitched. He laughed breathlessly. 

"Well then, how do you want me? My mouth has received many a compliment. My tongue doesn't tire, you see," he said. 

Yennefer shook her head. "No," she said. "I think there's something else you owe me. I want you to use your mouth to make me fall in love with you - with your words. Your hands are skilled. They can do the rest of the work." 

Jaskier smiled, a slow, sultry grin. "Dear sorceress," he said, "I would be quite honored. But if we are to do that, we're missing an essential component to the process," he said. 

Yennefer raised one brow. "Oh? Then supply it, bard," she said. Jaskier needed no more encouragement to pull her into a smoldering kiss.

Their bodies were pressed together along the length, unhurried now that they'd both come at least once. Geralt couldn't see much, what with Yennefer's cloud of raven curls obscuring the view, but he was intimately acquainted with both those mouths and what they could do. Without seeing, he was left to imagine it from the minute movements of their bodies - the tilt of Yennefer's head, the flex of her thigh, the small twitch of Jaskier's hand on her back. There was nothing to think about but those mouths, those naked bodies, perfumed with each other's sweat and spend, and how Geralt longed to lick it off both of them. He swallowed against the taste of Yennefer still strong in his mouth. 

He didn't know how long it had been before they broke apart. Enough to put a flush back on Yennefer's face, to make Jaskier's breath come faster. The sorceress licked her lips. 

"Pleasant," she allowed, "but essential?" 

Jaskier ran a hand down her side, stroking her leg and tracing circles closer and closer to her cunt. "I always kiss a beautiful woman before I fall in love with her," he said, voice low and husky. Yennefer laughed and pushed Jaskier's hand between her legs, not saying anything. The bard's fingers obligingly got to work. 

"You know, I hope you're not expecting the sweet words I give noble ladies," he said, his mouth to her ear, nearly whispering. The wet sounds of his hands stroking Yennefer were obvious. "Them, they don't matter, so I can charm them as I please. What I'm really attracted to are people who intimidate me, and they fluster me." He kissed Yennefer's neck and twisted his wrist; she gasped, and - Geralt peered between her legs to check - yes, Jaskier had slid two fingers inside her and was thumbing her clit in slow circles while he talked. 

Yennefer moaned, heavy-lidded. "Keep going," she said. So Jaskier slid a third finger in her and kept talking. 

"That's part why I kept tripping over my words when we met," he said, rubbing the heel of one hand up her side and over her breast. His tongue came out to wet his lips. "You were beautiful. Powerful. Could have killed me with a thought. Just my type." He laughed, and pinched her nipple. Yennefer leaned into it, starting to shift her hips into that clever hand between her legs. "I resented what you did to Geralt - he didn't need someone else leaving him all the time - but I resented how much I wanted to be between you more." He shifted his wrist, hard this time, moving faster, and Yennefer's chest heaved, riding his hand. Her climaxes got easier the more of them she had, and Jaskier was rapidly pulling her up that hill. 

His eyes were dark, and he kept them locked on Yennefer, like Geralt wasn't even in the room. It should have felt awful, but instead his cock throbbed, getting to witness this moment between them. Jaskier kept talking. 

"To this day, I'm not sure whether what I first said to you or to Geralt was worse," he said softly, twisting his fingers and sliding one more in to make Yennefer moan at the stretch. "Suppose it doesn't matter, though. I can't use my way with words on the people I could fall in love with." Yennefer's thighs tensed, and Jaskier could clearly tell as much as Geralt could that she was about to come. He bit his tongue and pistoned his fingers into her, faster and faster, curling and dragging his thumb against her clit. She bit her lip and gasped and seized up, tense, and then relaxed, gasping. Jaskier gave her a moment, but when he went to move his hand from between her legs, her thighs clamped down. 

"More," she said, giving him a heated look. Jaskier gulped. Then, slowly, he withdrew his hand, just enough that he could press his thumb into his palm and slide the whole thing inside her. 

Yennefer and Geralt gasped at once. Jaskier went slowly, and Geralt knew Yennefer had taken more before, but it was still a stretch, to have the bard's whole clever hand inside her cunt. Jaskier did - something - that made her throw her head back, and when she caught her breath she looked down at him. 

"Keep talking," she said, breathless. Jaskier bit his lip and complied. 

"Sometimes being between you and Geralt makes me feel small," he said, shifting his other hand to press on her clit, letting Yennefer grind against him at her own pace. "A human amongst the magical, the powerful. But then I realize," he said, kissing at Yennefer's breasts, "that the powerful chose me, out of all humanity. And then I can't think of that too much, or my ego will burst." 

Yennefer huffed a laugh, strained, as her thighs started to shake. "Your ego or your cock?" she asked. 

"Oh, both, of course," he said. He ground his knuckle into her clit, and Yennefer cried out. She was close, and it was going to be a strong one, Geralt could tell. 

"Keep your eyes on me, Yennefer," Jaskier said, almost too quietly for even Geralt's hearing. "All I want from you is your attention." Then he thrust his hand inside her - once, twice, three times - and Yennefer yelled, and shook, and dropped forward on Jaskier's chest as she came. 

Jaskier waited a just barely respectable amount of time before carefully retrieving his hand. He winced theatrically, going through one or two of the stretches he did before performing. 

"Gods above, I thought you might take my hand off," he exclaimed. His free hand was running through Yennefer's hair as if he couldn't help himself. "These are sensitive instruments! I'm sorry to say you're far too strong for me, if you're in the mood to take a whole hand again you'll have to ask another lover." 

Yennefer snorted indelicately and turned to face Geralt. Her eyes flashed; he must have made a sight, sweating and panting, pupils wide and dark, cock hard and wet, sticking out of his trousers, two strokes from coming. His fingers clenched under the pressure of her gaze. 

"Well, Geralt?" she asked. "Would you do that for me if I wanted it?" 

"Yes," he said, voice barely more than a growl. He'd do anything she wanted. 

Yennefer smiled. "You would, wouldn't you," she said, responding more to the thoughts than the words. She sat up gingerly - still a bit tender between the legs - and beckoned him over with a single finger. "You've been good. Come over here." 

Jaskier sat up in interest to watch as Geralt stood up, less gracefully than normal, and walked over to the bed. He stood in front of them, unsure what to do since they were both flushed and sated, and yet aching to touch. His prick throbbed, looking at them, and he wanted - 

"Lie down," Yennefer said, moving so there was a space between her and Jaskier. Geralt breathed, and settled in. He could be happy just like this, pressed between them, smelling their satisfaction. Eventually, his cock would soften. Maybe not until he left the bed that stunk of them, but it would. He closed his eyes for just a moment, but they snapped back open when he felt hands at his open waistband. 

Yennefer's violet gaze met his. "We're not done with you, Geralt," she said, and his cock leaped, inches from her face. "Lift up your hips." 

Geralt did, witcher-slow heartbeat thundering as Yenn peeled his pants down his legs. On his other side, Jaskier sighed happily. "Nothing quite like one lover undressing another," he said lasciviously. 

Yennefer laughed. "Indeed," she said, crawling back up Geralt. "Since this whole evening was your idea, Jaskier, perhaps you'd like to decide how our witcher is permitted to come." 

Jaskier sighed appreciatively, and Geralt shifted, biting his tongue. He didn't dare protest now, with the end in sight. He turned to the bard, who was looking at Geralt the way he looked at the first glass of decent wine after three weeks in the wilderness. 

"Well, since last time, I've had a few thoughts," Jaskier said. "How would you feel about sucking his cock together? There's certainly plenty to go around."

Geralt inhaled deeply, his toes curling, and Yennefer watched this with interest. "He certainly seems to like the idea," she said. "But we can't have him interfering. Geralt, hands above your head. You can come whenever you like."

Geralt groaned, but put his hands where instructed anyway. His cock was so hard he was half afraid he'd come as soon as one set of lips touched it, let alone two. But he kept his eyes on them as they leaned down in sync, watching each other for cues, and began to lick up his shaft. 

The pleasure was so good and sudden it was almost painful, the hot wet tongues on him after what felt like hours of neglect. And they weren't anyone's tongues, they were Yennefer's and Jaskier's, the people who stayed, the people who knew him. As their tongues twisted together at the head, Geralt had to resist the urge to throw his head back, thrust his hips. He couldn't interrupt this. Not for the world. 

"Please," he gasped, a fresh sweat breaking out at his hairline, already desperate. "Please."

Yennefer drew back, and Geralt could have cried, his sanity saved only by the fact that Jaskier kept licking at him, not quite enough but still so, so good. "It seems he needs more," Yennefer said, mirroring his thoughts. "I'll take the top, you take the bottom?" 

In answer, Jaskier moved down to put his mouth low on Geralt's shaft, sucking and tonguing at the root of him, and Yennefer shifted to slide the head into her mouth, hands on Geralt's hips to hold him still. He needed it, as that hot wet mouth that knew him so well began to suck. It was so good. He'd never last, witcher stamina nothing to all the watching and waiting. 

"Good, it's good," he gasped. "I'm - I'm going to -" His eyes slammed shut and he did throw his head back, his abdomen tensing, his orgasm upon him. And then he was coming, so hard he heard himself making desperate animal noises, shooting his seed into Yennefer's waiting mouth, grunting and groaning. 

She only pulled back when he opened his eyes again, gasping for breath. Smugly, she pulled Jaskier into a kiss, and Geralt's cock twitched when he realized that she was pushing his spend into Jaskier's mouth. Suddenly he was desperate all over again in a different. 

"Jaskier," he groaned. "Yenn - Yennefer - _please_."

They broke apart and looked at him. Jaskier crawled up and gave him what he needed - he kissed him, slow and almost tender, if it weren't for the way he pushed Geralt's own seed into his mouth. Geralt swallowed without a protest, and licked hard and deep into Jaskier's mouth, looking for more traces. When Jaskier pulled away to breathe, Yennefer was there for her turn, and Geralt tasted himself on her as well. He huffed into her mouth, giving her the same treatment, and when she pulled away as well, something in him was settled. 

Yennefer curled up under his arm, head resting on his chest, and pulled Jaskier down on Geralt's other side the same way. Geralt breathed in, more comfortable than he ever remembered being. He couldn't reach his swords from here, but in Yennefer's tower, that was all right. Both of his lovers were sated in his arms, claimed by his scent and seed. Geralt felt his eyes drifting closed. Jaskier's breathing was already slowing towards sleep. Yennefer shifted, though, and Geralt tilted his chin to face her. 

"I suppose," she said softly, "you have earned the privilege of pet names again."

Geralt's heart thumped hard in his chest, and he stroked one hand through her hair. "Yenn," he said, softly, reverently. Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this whole sex scene is longer than _sweet to tongue, sound to eye in its entirety. (Well, I can, that's why I fade-to-blacked it.) Thanks for coming on this ridiculous journey with me; there will, eventually, be more in this series._


End file.
